Internal Battle
by Anexie
Summary: In which Onceler has a kind of multiple personality disorder. Masturbation. (Not that I know too much about the disorder - there may be inaccuracies).


'Review...check. Initials here, next. Review. Check, and...check. Next.'

This was the mantra that circled a small part of the Onceler's mind for a few hours every single day. There was always paperwork to be skimmed over, filled out and signed, and he'd long since developed a state of mind in which he was barely conscious of his vigorous filing. During it, he was able to accompany his mind with other thoughts, and this speeded up the long, tedious hours of questionably necessary paperwork.

_'Although, there are other ways of entertaining yourself.'_

The low, rasping tones reverberated in his head, and Onceler rolled his eyes. 'No,' he said out loud, and a little too forcefully. But the look of defiance on his face morphed into a smirk, and Onceler's hand snapped the pen he was holding.

The sharp noise jerked him back to normal. He grew rigid, shocked, and quickly tore off his glove before the ink seeped through onto his hand. But it was too late – the creases in his fingers were already showing up black.

_'Oh, why not? Your hand's already dirty now...here's your chance.'_

His eyes grew dark and his lip curled as he said this, before quickly flashing back to narrow eyes and flared nostrils. To watch his expressions flicker back and forth in this manner was a disturbing sight for most, so it had become common knowledge not to try to speak with the Onceler when he was showing signs of fatigue or stress.

Removing the other glove and screwing it into a ball, Onceler mopped up the ink spillage on his desk with it before wiping his hands on his trousers and grabbing a fresh pen. When the nib was a hair's breadth away from the paper, his hand froze.

_''You've done enough work for one day.' _

His non-writing hand crept to the front of his trousers, fingertips skimming over the top of his thigh and making the muscles there twitch. The smug expression was back in full force now, and Onceler bared his teeth in a satisfied smile as he undid the top button. He breathed slowly and suppressed any urges to pull his hand away; instead forcing his fingers down between skin and clothing and slowly, teasingly rubbing gently along his length with his index fingernail.

He wasn't sure who, but one of them made him nip his lower lip and close his eyes. Onceler felt a rush of blood flooding his cheeks, and the corner of his mouth turned up as he felt feelings of embarrassment and discomfiture rising up from within him. He found the other's discomfort very humorous and extremely entertaining; and like anything that gives us pleasure, the natural instinct is to do it more and more. So, dropping the pen onto the desktop with a clatter, he ran his hand along the inside of his own thigh and was delighted to hear the satisfying result; a quiet moan escaped his lips. Onceler mumbled to himself, 'Why do you do this to me?'

He felt his heart start to race as he listened to himself chuckle; a deep laugh that still surprised him every time his vocal chords produced it. Then he replied lowly, '_Because if I didn't, you wouldn't.' _He pulled down his trouser zipper._ 'Besides, it's not like I do this too often,' _Hands that weren't entirely his snaked upwards, tugging down the waistband of his boxers. His hips hitched up to make removing them easier._ 'And it's not like you don't enjoy it.'_ His hand ghosted over his erection, then each separate finger unhurriedly wrapped itself around it until he was pumping himself in agonisingly slow strokes.

'I...uhn..' Onceler was annoyed - he words he'd been trying to force out during the whole rigmarole could finally be said, but now his tongue wasn't co-operating for an entirely different reason. 'Hahh...no. No. Stop! Let me- aghh...' He was fast losing the will to fight back. The tendons in the back of his hand jerked frantically as his brain sent a frenzy of impulses to break contact with his member. The muscles tensed in his forearm, but before he could pull his hand away he started to stroke faster, flicking his thumb over the slit.

Through his shallow panting, the grin returned, and he made his body buck it's hips upwards into his fist. _'Don't worry; no one's gonna see you,'_ he purred, answering an unspoken question._ 'Just -ah...relax.' _The instruction was not necessary; he could feel the resistance falling and whatever urges he had to stop his ministrations were becoming less frequent. His other hand was now dancing across his chest beneath the shirt, stimulating the nerves and heating his skin.

Onceler took one last glance at the abandoned forms on his desktop, and sighed. Closing his eyes, his enthusiasm for what he was doing suddenly seemed to double, and he let out a breathy moan.

_'Good boy.' _


End file.
